Sarah's Wish
by PristinelyUngifted
Summary: Sarah Williams lives her life and retires to England, only to have another brush with magic when she witnesses three oddly dressed beings leave a baby on a doorstep. When her attempts to help the child come to naught, there is only one thing for Sarah to do: She must Wish the child away to the Goblin King. - How different may things be, when a child of prophecy becomes Fae.
1. Changeling

**A/N:** Currently I have no plans to continue this. I wrote it just to get it out of my system and because I am crossover trash.

 **Edit 06/26/16:** You guys talked me into it. I'm now continuing this, but I make no promises about an update schedule or even a coherent story line.

* * *

 **Sarah's Wish**

.

 _Changeling_

Sarah Williams never did become an actress. Nor did she marry. What she did do was attend college and get a degree in English. And when she learned that the book _The Labyrinth_ did not actually exist (her own copy had vanished into thin air), she wrote it.

It became a bestseller, spawning many spin-off stories about Sarah's friends from her time Underground. _The Adventures of Sir Didymus_ was especially popular with young children. A movie version of _The Labyrinth_ was even filmed. David Bowie came close to doing Jareth justice, but he was just a human trying to imitate a Faerie in the end. Jareth's voice was sweeter, his looks more otherworldly, his gaze more piercing, his clothes finer… but Mr. Bowie had come as close as a human man was likely to come.

Sarah had plenty of offers from men over the years, but she spurned them all for a teaching position at a prominent British university. Buried in her work and her memories of a land of magic and a king she'd been too young to understand, she grew up and then grew old. She stopped calling to her friends from the Underground, though one or two little goblins still tailed her from time to time, ensuring that she never forgot that her thirteen hours in another world had really happened. That it was real.

She retired from teaching and bought herself a nice little house in Surrey, a place called Little Whinging. Privet Drive was picturesque, perhaps a bit too cookie cutter for Sarah's tastes, but there were plenty of children and the library was just around the corner. Sarah enjoyed volunteering to read at the library's story hour. It especially amused her to read her own stories to the children.

All in all, Sarah had learned the lessons of the Labyrinth well. Life was not fair, and dreams, while tempting, were no substitute for reality. She'd become an adult and managed to live a respectable life, even if her stepmother despaired of her being an old maid. Sarah was content and she refused to settle for anything less than heart-pounding, head-over-heels, time-stopping, passionate love. And after one has matched wits with the Goblin King… well, it's hard for anything else to seem as magical.

Unless of course, one counts people in robes and pointy hats appearing on the street one night and somehow causing all of the streetlights to wink out.

Unknown to Sarah, she had retained the powers given to her by the Goblin King so long ago. Words had power in the Underground, and she had declared herself the king's equal with True Belief backing her claim. So though the wizards on the street were using spells to hide their activities from prying eyes, their magic affected Sarah not one whit.

Thus it was that she witnessed an old man, a half-giant, and an old woman leave a baby on a doorstep and then vanish into thin air.

Were those people Fae like Jareth? Was the child a changeling? Sarah had made a thorough study of all ancient myths and legends concerning beings like the Goblin King, both for her writing and in case she should ever cross paths with one again. So she knew the stories of Fae children being disguised as humans and given to mortals to raise. Perhaps that was what she had just witnessed.

She had half a mind to march over the road and take the child from her neighbor's stoop, but remembering her ignorance and youthful arrogance when she faced Jareth, she stayed her hand. Who knew what purpose those beings had in leaving one of their children there, and who was she to interfere?

So she resolved to do nothing. But she would keep an eye on the child. Just in case.

 **-l-**

Months passed, and Sarah grew frustrated. She'd blamed the initial screaming and fussing the child's discovery caused at Number 4 Privet Drive on the shock of finding a baby on the stoop. But then it seemed as if the child had vanished. When Sarah politely inquired about the foundling, Mrs. Dursley - the housewife of Number 4 - was unable to completely hide the hatred that burned in her eyes and the disgust that twisted her lips. She said the child was sickly and she had to keep him indoors at all times. Sarah knew the woman was lying. Ever since the Labyrinth Sarah always knew when a falsehood was spoken.

With a feeling of dread, Sarah asked one of the goblins attending her to sneak into the house and report back on the child. Eager to please, the little goblin did so, and what it (Sarah found goblin gender difficult to determine) reported back was enough to make Sarah's hands shake. The child was kept in a boot cupboard. He was barely fed and extremely dirty, dressed in rags. Whatever mobility he'd once had was lost, for the poor thing barely had room to move about in the cupboard.

Sarah called the authorities. She'd initially kept watch on the child in case the little Fae got up to some mischief, but now she would be his Champion. Surely the Faeries who'd left him wouldn't want him to be tortured so?

The authorities came and the Dursleys were arrested and the changeling child removed. Sarah considered the matter closed.

Except the very next day the Dursleys were back in their house, the child was back in the cupboard, and no one else in the neighborhood remembered anything that had happened the day before. Sarah herself was the only one immune to whatever force it was bent on torturing the poor baby Fae.

Sarah called the authorities several more times with similar results. Eventually the old man Fae she'd witnessed leave the changeling on the stoop came to her house. He was wearing a ridiculous purple striped suit and had long white hair and an even longer white beard. His eyes, both blue, twinkled at her. Up close he appeared human, without any of the otherworldly beauty and grace that had characterized Jareth. Perhaps this Fae wasn't royal and that made the difference. Or perhaps he was using a glamour to appear human to her.

At any rate, the old Fae didn't bother with small talk. He simply pointed a stick - a magic wand? - at her and said " _Obliviate!_ "

A blue-white light flashed out and engulfed Sarah's head. Other than that she didn't feel a thing, but she wasn't about to let the Faerie know that. She allowed her eyes to unfocus and dredged up her acting skills. Pretending to come back to herself, she acted as if she'd just opened the door and greeted the old Fae all over again.

"I'm just a bit lost," the old Fae said. "Can you tell me where I might find Number 4?"

Sarah nodded and smiled kindly. "Oh the Dursleys," she said. "Lovely family. Nicest people."

Satisfied, the old Fae left.

Sarah shut her door and grit her teeth. She could see only one way out for the little changeling. If the Fae that should be looking after the little one wouldn't help, then Sarah would turn to one she knew who would.

As a teenager she'd been afraid of the Goblin King and twisted his every action to fit her picture of a villain. But older eyes saw things more clearly. _Nothing is as it seems._ The Goblin King's game had rules and _goals_. The Labyrinth taught lessons to those who would be so foolhardy as to wish away their children. And for those children no one truly wanted, the Wished Away that had no one come for them, Jareth provided a home.

But as she had said, there were rules. Before Sarah would be able to wish the changeling into Jareth's kingdom, she needed to have a claim on the boy.

After waiting a few hours to be sure that the old Fae was really gone, Sarah went across the street to Number 4 and volunteered to babysit the 'sickly' child. She was old, she said, and would appreciate the company. Besides, Mrs. Dursley should be allowed to focus on her own son. How rude of people, to just leave a child on a doorstep! (Well, Sarah actually meant that statement, but it didn't excuse the behavior of the Dursleys.)

As soon as she'd been given the boy - dressed in only a soggy nappy and ratty blanket - she took him into her house and whispered, "I wish the Goblin King would come and take this child away. Right now."

 **-l-**

Jareth lounged on his throne. Well, perhaps 'languished' would be the better term. It had been less than a century, a blink of the eye to one of the Fae, but his heart had been breaking ever since Sarah Williams denied him and forced him to relinquish his hold on her. He could watch her from afar, but not appear before her. Not unless she called him, and she was so very clever and careful not to do _that_.

He grimaced. This was why few Fae allowed themselves to love, for it was a Fae's nature to feel every emotion to the fullest extent. Their anger was fierce and their happiness fiercer, and their sorrow so deep that it was possible for them to die of it. When they hated something they _loathed it_ , and when they loved it was for all eternity.

Jareth had not meant to love Sarah. She was just another runner of his Labyrinth, another child to teach a lesson to. And then she was more, and he wasn't sure why or how. Perhaps it was her eyes, eyes as cruel as those of any Fae. Though in her case the cruelty was born of youthful ignorance more than any true malevolence. And then she had the gall to do what no Fae princess had ever done.

She had denied him. Him! She had said the Words and meant them. Words had power Underground, but only when one _wanted_ them to with every fiber of their being. It took pure intent and True Belief to wield the Words. And Sarah had done so.

Jareth's heart broke in that moment, his will momentarily shattered so that his realm had crumbled around him. The Goblin City only existed for so long as Jareth desired it. It was his world and so it had reflected his feelings at being spurned by a little mortal girl.

Except she wasn't a mortal girl. Not anymore. By her own Words, she was the equal of the Goblin King. _For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great._ What is said is said. Sarah had crowned herself Goblin Queen and retained the position ever since. Though she returned to the Above, though she would not allow Jareth to visit her, though she insisted on aging as mortals did, she was still his queen.

So he watched her. She was willfully blind to her powers. She did not notice how she could captivate mortals with her words, assumed that when she called on her friends through a mirror that it was their magic, not hers, and did not question that the female goblins of the kingdom had taken to following and serving her from the shadows. She could smell lies and see through illusion, fitting for Jareth's Court as he himself was renowned for his abilities in those areas. And when she wrote her stories, spreading their tale through the Above, the Labyrinth shifted and grew to fit her will. With all the fascination and faith Sarah's stories generated among children and adults alike, the Goblin Kingdom was stronger now than it had been since the days when Fae were worshiped as gods.

Even unknowing, Sarah was a fine queen. Jareth loved her more with every year that passed and wished that there was a way to cut his heart from his chest to spare himself the longing that only grew stronger.

At least she had never taken a husband. Jareth was not certain that he would have survived that.

And then the day came. The wonderful day when her voice echoed from one end of the kingdom to the other.

"I wish the Goblin King would come and take this child away. Right now."

 **-l-**

Jareth appeared in a boom of thunder and crack of lightning, a wind whipping loose papers around Sarah's sitting room. The child in Sarah's arms tensed but did not cry, making Sarah frown. What had been done to the child that he had learned not to make noise?

Sarah looked up and her breath caught. Jareth stood framed by the doors to her patio. He was just as beautiful as ever, with his chiseled features, up-swept brows, and wild white hair. His mismatched eyes bored into hers and she quickly averted her gaze, taking in his body instead. He was still tall and leanly muscled, his tight breeches and tall boots showing his legs off to advantage and displaying his obvious masculinity. He wore a ruffled white shirt beneath a black vest embroidered in silver. A black feathered cape hung from his shoulders, equally black gloves on his hands. His skin glittered and glowed in the afternoon light, marking him as something beyond human.

His magnificence made Sarah all the more aware of her own frazzled greying hair, the wrinkles on her face and hands, and her frumpy old lady sweater set.

Sarah curtseyed as best she could with a terrified baby in her arms. "Your majesty."

She felt rather than saw Jareth approach. Gloved fingers gently grasped her chin and tilted her head back.

"Sarah," the Goblin King said, his voice sending shivers down her spine. "Your eyes are the same."

Sarah smiled. "I'm flattered you remember me, your majesty."

Jareth snorted, a blasphemous action when it came from such an angelic face. "I can never forget you, Sarah. I have tried. But come, rise. You never bowed to me before. I won't have you start now."

Sarah straightened, squinting at Jareth as she tried to puzzle that out. The child in her arms clung to her and buried his little face in her chest, shaking with fear. Her attention diverted, Sarah rubbed the boy's back and hummed soothing nonsense to him.

"So this is why you called for me at last," Jareth went on, reaching out to place a hand on the child's head. "Peace."

The baby instantly calmed.

"Nice trick."

Jareth gave a noncommittal hum, moving to take the baby from her. Sarah allowed it.

"You have no intention of running the Labyrinth to reclaim him."

It was a statement, not a question. Sarah nodded. "He will be better off there than back with his family." Sarah then proceeded to tell Jareth of all that she had seen and suspected, not knowing that he already knew much of the story from the hours he spent watching her.

Turning the now sleeping boy in his arms, Jareth summoned a crystal and gazed into it for several minutes, falling into a sort of trance. Sarah occupied herself by picking up the papers the Goblin King's arrival had disturbed, offering a smile to the goblins who scurried to help her.

"He is half Fae," Jareth announced suddenly, making Sarah jump, a hand clutching at her chest. Jareth chuckled and Sarah frowned at him.

"Well, go on. If you're done trying to scare an old lady into an early grave, that is," Sarah groused.

Now Jareth cringed, flinching away as if he'd been struck. Sarah wasn't sure why. Perhaps she'd offended his sense of honor? "I'm sorry, your majesty. I know you didn't scare me intentionally."

Jareth just shook his head, schooling his expression. He began to juggle a crystal one handed, the other arm cradling the child. "This boy is not a changeling, but his mother was. Red haired and green eyed, she was likely from the Phoenix Kingdom, or perhaps the Land of Dragons. She grew up thinking she was the mortal sister of Petunia Dursley and was trained in the use of human magics. She married a mortal wizard and begat the boy I hold. His mortal name is Harry Potter."

Sarah nodded. "That was one of the things that disturbed me most about the Dursleys. They never told me his name, just referred to him as 'the boy' all the time."

Jareth scowled. "The boy's parents were murdered by a foul sorcerer, one who attempted to get far above himself. The father perished quickly. The mother's Fae nature saved the child. She used the Words. 'Please not Harry,' she said. 'Take me instead.' Her willingness to die, her utter belief in what she said activated her long dormant Faerie magic. She died, and from that moment forward the boy was untouchable. When the mortal sorcerer attempted to kill the boy, the very curse he cast rebounded and saw to it that his body was unmade. Now his spirit travels the Above without rest or refuge."

Sarah gazed at the poor baby's face, stepping close to Jareth so that she could traced the lightning bolt shaped scar on Harry's forehead. "Poor thing," she cooed at him. "This is just awful." She knew better than to say it wasn't fair. Life rarely was. "How did he end up on the Dursleys' stoop?"

"Another mortal wizard. He is convinced that the child is the subject of a prophecy and the only one who can vanquish the dark wizard when he regains a body. So he arranged events to ensure that the boy will grow up in an environment that will make him easy to mold. After all, what if the boy decides he doesn't want to be a savior? Or worse yet, decides to side with the dark sorcerer? Best not to risk it." Jareth snarled. "It's all for the greater good."

Sarah's lips pressed into a thin white line, her cheeks flushing. "I think we've met. The old wizard, I mean. He tried to erase my memory."

Jareth's face relaxed into a crooked grin. "How foolish. As if that would work on you."

Lured by the beauty of the Goblin King's smile, Sarah swayed forward and then gave herself a mental slap and stepped back. She shouldn't have gotten that close - so close that she could smell him, feel the heat of his body, and sense the power that he wore like a cloak. She was too old to go making a fool of herself that way.

Jareth watched her, something Sarah could not identify flashing in his eyes. He held out the crystal he'd been juggling. "I am obliged to offer you this."

Now Sarah chuckled. "Thank you, your majesty, but I learned my lesson the last time. It does not do to dwell on dreams." Still, she was tempted. What would she see? The life she could have had if she stayed Underground? If she'd been older and wiser and understood what Jareth had offered her at the end of the Labyrinth? The children she might have given him, little half Fae princes and princesses with one green eye and one blue?

But no. That was silly. It would have still ended with her standing here, old and grey, while Jareth was untouched by time. This way was better, for at least neither of them were broken hearted.

"As you wish." Jareth squeezed his fist and the crystal globe dissolved into silver glitter that fell to the carpet. "But I must give you something if you don't intend to run the Labyrinth. It's in the Rules."

Sarah bit her lip and thought. "Just treat the child well. That's all I really wanted. To give him a better life." Drawn back to the boy and the Faerie who held him as if one or both were a lode stone, Sarah stroked the sleeping baby's hair, bending to press a kiss to Harry's soft skin. Jareth made a strange noise, a strangled breath, making Sarah look up at him.

"Why did you never call me?" The question seemed to burst from the Goblin King against his will. "Why did you stop calling on your friends?"

Sarah blushed and fingered a strand of her grey hair. "I suppose I wanted to be remembered as I was. Young. Beautiful." She gave an awkward shrug, clutching her hands together. Her knuckles were swollen with arthritis. "I didn't want any of you to see me like this."

"You are still beautiful, Sarah." Jareth's eyes were intense, his gaze potent. It made something within Sarah quiver, stole the air from her lungs. For a moment she couldn't move. Then her brain restarted and a weary sigh whooshed out of her.

"You are kind to say so, your majesty."

Sarah took a step back and Jareth took a step forward, refusing to let her retreat from him.

"I am not _kind_ , Sarah. You know this."

Sarah had seen Jareth mocking and arrogant, gleeful and desperate, angry and gentle. She had seen him spit and rage, and barely withstood his attempts at seduction. But never before had he looked at her with such heartfelt sincerity. Moved to comfort him, she patted his arm, giving the appendage a friendly squeeze. "I know that things are not always as they seem. The direst cruelty can be kindness disguised. The wicked villain a hero maligned."

Jareth broke into abrupt laughter that barely trod the edge of sanity. "Oh, my queen. How I love you," he managed to say between chortles.

Sarah's entire body went numb.

"What? I…"

The laughter stopped as suddenly as it began and that piercing gaze was on her again, staring down into her very soul, stripping all else away.

"You know the truth, Sarah," Jareth's voice came as if from far away. "You can feel it when it's spoken. See it dancing in the air. I would have you taste it on my tongue."

With a snap of Jareth's fingers the child vanished from his arms, no doubt spirited away to the Goblin Kingdom. Now it was Sarah who rested there, who found her unresisting limbs hauled into the Goblin King's chest, cradled against his form. She stared up at him, unable to string two words together, despite her natural gifts.

"I must give you something in exchange for the child," Jareth spoke into the soft shell of her ear. "It is expected that I give him a better life, so that cannot be your reward. You do not wish to gaze upon your dreams. I cannot give you a crown for you took that long ago. I cannot offer my heart for you already hold it in your hands. So let me offer you this: my truth, and a kiss."

Sarah's vision started to blacken at the edges even as she felt more alive than she ever had before. Magic swirled around them, re-scattering the papers she'd gathered and making the goblins in the shadows squeal. Glitter - not glitter, Faerie Dust - spiraled through the air, attaching to whatever it struck until Sarah's quiet suburban house resembled a cave of wonders. Her heart pounded and she clutched at Jareth's shoulders, the longing she'd felt all these years surging up until it choked her. She could not force a single Word past her lips.

"Sarah, please," Jareth begged.

Jareth should never beg. Not her, not anyone.

At last, she found her voice. "What is your truth?"

The whirlwind of magic around them picked up speed, becoming a cyclone of blurred color and power. It had a sound of its own, a roar that threatened to consume them both. And yet somehow Sarah could hear Jareth just fine.

"My truth is what it has been since last we parted. What it shall be forevermore," he said into the curve of her neck, the barest tip of his tongue flicking out to graze her skin. She shivered, trying to ignore the effect he had upon her, even at her age. And then Jareth said the Words.

" _Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave_."

And this time Sarah knew it for what it was: a Fae marriage vow.

One woman could resist temptation only so many times. Here it was. Her heart-pounding, head-over-heels, passionate, worth-waiting-for love. "Yes!" Sarah gasped, and turned her face up, a line from _Romeo and Juliet_ running through her mind.

 _And thus, with a kiss, I die._

When Sarah's lips met Jareth's, the cyclone of magic around them exploded outward and the two disappeared in a flash of lightning.

The house burned down.

 _Poor Ms. Williams_ , the neighbors would say. _Such a kind old lady. What a pity._

The Dursleys would never mention to anyone that their nephew was in the burning house. In time, no one on Privet Drive would remember anything about Harry Potter at all. The effect would even spread as far as Wisteria Walk, to a certain Arabella Figg.

As for the old wizard who'd left Harry there in the first place, he would not notice the boy missing until ten years had passed, for every measure he'd put in place to monitor the lad showed him to be in good physical condition and the Dursleys' routine was undisturbed.

 **-l-**

As soon as Sarah set foot Underground, her age melted away from her. Her skin smoothed and tightened, certain things ceased to sag, and her hair became black as the night sky. But that was not the end of it - the bones of her face rearranged themselves in a process that should have been painful but was only disturbing, giving her up-swept brows and more defined cheekbones. Her eyes, always green, now shone like cut emeralds. Her ears became pointed, as did her teeth. She grew a little taller, her arms and legs lengthening until she could be classed as 'willowy.' And her skin started to glow with an inner light, specks of glitter shining in the light.

She was Fae.

"How?" she asked, reeling from all her new senses. Jareth gestured at her, turning her granny clothes into a beautiful white dress trimmed with swan feathers, and Sarah almost staggered because she could _see_ the magic.

"Because you want it," Jareth answered. "You made yourself my equal when you were last here. You remember."

"Yes," Sarah breathed, looking at the Labyrinth with new eyes. She couldn't stop staring.

"You aged because you expected to," Jareth told her, though she was hardly listening. The Labyrinth called to her, and she was hard pressed to block it out. "And after so many years in the Above your powers were fading. But here?" Jareth smiled at her with the sort of wild abandon only a Faerie was capable of. "Here you are limitless."

Sarah returned his playful grin, mischief bubbling in her blood. "Race you to the Palace Beyond the Goblin City!"

With that, she hiked up her skirts and took off running.

 **-l-**

It took them three days to reach the palace. They kept getting distracted, whether by each other or Sarah's amazement that something she had imagined and written about had become part of the Labyrinth, coming into being because she willed it.

When they entered the throne room, they found that it had sprouted a second throne as well as a playpen of carved marble and silken cushions in which little Harry Potter was ensconced.

All at once Sarah remembered why she had called Jareth in the first place and was filled with guilt at having forgotten the little boy. Being fully in touch with her Fae nature would take some getting used to. Things tended to take up either all of her attention, or none of it. She'd have to work on that.

"He is fine, Sarah," Jareth comforted her. "The older goblins will have cared for him. It is a duty they are used to."

Still Sarah moved to clutch the child to her bosom. Her tears of regret bathed his face, only to sizzle when they touched his scar.

Harry screamed.

"Jareth!" Sarah called for her husband, frantic. "What's wrong with him?"

Taking the child from his queen, Jareth quieted the boy with a Word and summoned a crystal to inspect the lad. The boy had changed just as Sarah had, now bearing all the marks of being a full Fae. Sarah was mildly surprised that he wasn't a goblin, but she supposed that his half Fae nature had seen to that. He was a beautiful little thing, with black hair as wild as Jareth's and eyes as green as Sarah's. Why, he could easily be mistaken as their own child. Perhaps they would keep him.

"Ah," Jareth said. "Well that's easily fixed. I shall leave the powers, for they may be useful and he won them fair and square, but the soul shard must go."

Sarah had no idea what Jareth was on about, but as she watched Jareth focused on Harry's forehead and the child's scar began to bleed and weep a vile black ooze. Jareth pressed the crystal in his hand to the ooze and the crystal sucked the foul stuff up until there was none left, filling the ball with an oily black smoke. With a flick of his wrist Jareth vanished the now befouled crystal, and started jiggling Harry up and down.

"There now!" he declared. "All better!"

Harry giggled and it was so infectious that Sarah joined in.

Balancing Harry on his hip, Jareth held a hand out to Sarah. "Come now, my queen. Let us discuss a name for our new Goblin Prince."

Sarah arched an eyebrow. "Goblin Prince?" She took Jareth's hand, allowing him to escort her to the two thrones at the end of the hall.

"You were already thinking it, Precious," Jareth chided her. "Don't act as if you weren't."

Sara smiled. "Well, he does look as if he could be our son."

"And so he shall be, because we declare that he is," Jareth agreed with her. "But his name shall not be 'Harry.' A future Goblin King named 'Harry?' Absurd!"

And so the Goblin King and Goblin Queen argued well into the eve about what was a suitable name for a Goblin Prince. 'Jareth II' was suggested no less than thirteen times, and dismissed just as often. Finally Sarah began listing names she had read in books Above. 'Legolas' was overdone, 'Puck' sounded vulgar, and 'Oberon' was rejected on the grounds that Jareth hated that guy. 'Thorin' was a _dwarf_ name for Faerie's sake, and too many mortals still knew the name 'Loki.' Finally, _finally_ they agreed on 'Gareth.' It sounded similar to 'Jareth' and it could be shortened to 'Gary,' which was close enough to 'Harry' so as not to confuse the little one.

So Prince Gareth the child became, and thus began many wonderful years with the only parents he would remember, the King and Queen of Goblins, Masters of the Labyrinth.


	2. As Above, So Below

**A/N:** I was shocked at how much attention this got. I really expected something like 2 people to read it. So, by popular demand, here is another installment. We'll see if more is forthcoming. I honestly don't know at this point, I have no ideas or outline, just a few vague notions.

* * *

 _As Above, So Below_

There is no such thing as a muggleborn. Never has been, never will be. Humans do not have active magic, and so two pure humans cannot produce a witch or wizard. Though it is long forgotten by the World Above, the original muggleborns were all Fae. Changelings.

In the old days, it was done as a lark, a joke, and sometimes as a test for the baby Fae. Changelings were wrapped round with glamours so thick that it was only the truly powerful who ever discovered their real nature and found their way back to the Underground. It was from a well of Faerie blood that human witches and wizards sprang, the first of them being unknowing changelings who never found their way home, and all those thereafter being of mixed human and Fae heritage. In modern times true changelings were much more rare, most so called muggleborns simply having an unknown magical relative somewhere in their family tree. But still at least once per every human generation, one of the Kingdoms Below gave up a child to be a changeling.

"But why?" Prince Gareth, Son of Jareth, asked his mother when he was five. Queen Sarah insisted on giving him all of his lessons herself.

"It is important," Gary's beautiful mother answered. "And the heart of all the Rules for how we interact with the Above. Remember these words, my prince. _As Above, So Below_."

"As Above, So Below," Gary repeated dutifully.

Queen Sarah smiled. "The Underground is a realm of magic, a realm ruled and fueled by True Belief. And the Above is our mirror. We exist so long as they believe we do. The more of them who believe, the stronger we are. If enough of them believe a thing, it becomes true here. Magic comes from mortal souls, and new souls are created by a spark of that same power. So you see without them, we do not exist. And without us, they will die."

Gary nodded, plucking at the silver threads that embroidered his green vest. He and his mother both had cruel green eyes, eyes the color of emeralds and snake scales, and his father King Jareth insisted on them dressing in that same shade. "But what has that got to do with changelings?"

"Think it through, Gareth," Sarah admonished him. "You know about the hidden enclaves of lesser Fae who still live Above, and the human witches and wizards who carry traces of our blood. They are the main source of the belief that gives us power, and they get the most out of the magic we grant their world in return. And so, to make sure that belief is kept alive and the magic kept strong in their veins, every generation we send a Fae to them. If the changeling is powerful enough to break their glamour and return Underground, they are usually seen by a few mortals in the process and belief in us increases. And if they stay Above, then they marry a human and renew their waning Faerie blood."

Gary thought about that, switching from plucking at his vest to twiddling with his shoulder length hair, as wild as his father's and dark as his mother's. Brimming with the magic of a royal Fae and energy of a young child, he had trouble sitting still. That was why his parents alternated every two hours of book learning with another two hours of magic with Jareth or running the Labyrinth and fencing with Sir Didymus.

"The mortals used to worship us," he recalled from his history lessons. "We were much stronger then, and the Underground was bigger and the Above world was healthier. But then the mortals started killing those with magic. The lesser Fae and Fae blooded hid and most of the Above forgot about us. The hidden magicals still worshipped us for a while, but then they stopped too. And they started shunning the changelings. Magic in the Above is dying, and the Underground is dying too. The Labyrinth was shrinking before I was born, and it only got big again because you wrote all those books about it in the Above."

"Very good, Gary!" Sarah smiled, her pointed teeth flashing white against her red lips. She was wearing a swan feather cape that Gary wanted to run his fingers over, though he couldn't reach when they were sitting at his school table in the library.

"Why doesn't Father just go to the Above and make them worship us again? Why send changelings who don't even know they're Fae?" Gary asked, his mind only half on the question. Any moment now Sir Didymus would arrive for another sword lesson. Or maybe he would finally get to pick his own mount to ride around the Labyrinth? He wanted a giant serpent or a dragon. He could talk to snakes, so he could make friends with one he could ride.

"You know the answer to that, Gareth," Sarah chided him. She always used his full name when she thought he wasn't thinking things through well enough. It was hard for Faeries to focus beyond their immediate desires, but Gary was the Goblin Prince so he had to learn to be as cunning as his father and well spoken as his mother.

Taking a deep breath, Gary squeezed his eyes shut and pushed aside thoughts of riding a dragon and practicing with his sword. He'd never be allowed to join the Wild Hunt when he turned ten if he didn't keep up with his other lessons. Father had decreed it so.

"What is the first Rule of Higher Fae entering the Above?" Sarah prompted him.

Gary's eyes snapped open. "They have to invite us in."

"Exactly," Sarah nodded. "That is why your father doesn't simply storm the Above with an army of goblins at his back. There is a balance between our two realms, and it is maintained by the Rules and Laws of Magic itself. That is why even the changelings cannot know they are High Fae. No Faerie may knowingly enter the Above without being summoned by one of the mortals. Instead they are hidden even from themselves and delivered by lesser Fae to mortals who are enchanted to believe they birthed the child."

With that final word, Gary was mercifully released to go cross swords with Sir Didymus.

 **-l-**

Six years later, a Fae Touched owl brought a letter to the Goblin Prince inviting him to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"I don't understand," he said to his parents, holding the parchment addressed to _His Royal Highness_ _Prince Gareth, The Heir's Suite, Palace Beyond the Goblin City, Underground._ "This school is for mortals."

Queen Sarah gasped and King Jareth blinked, his brows rising in surprise.

"We never told him!" Sarah breathed, her hands fluttering in distress.

"You know, I'd actually quite forgotten?" Jareth said, tilting his head to the side.

"What is it?" Gary asked, looking between the two of them. He hadn't seen his mother this out of sorts since the first time he'd helped with a Runner in the Labyrinth. She was afraid he'd be hurt, though Gary had it down to a science now. Depending on the personality of the Runner and what they needed to be taught, he was either Helpful Squire Gary who aided them in their quest, or Bratty Prince Gareth who tried to stop them because he wanted to keep the Wished Away as a playmate.

"Remember the story of how your mother returned to the Labyrinth?" Jareth asked. Gary nodded. "You were the child she Wished Away. Your birth mother was a changeling, and so instead of becoming a goblin at the end of the Thirteenth Hour, you became Fae. And we used the Words to make you ours."

"Oh," Gary said, not sure how he felt about this. Jareth and Sarah were the only parents he'd ever known, and the only ones he'd ever wanted. And they had used the Words, so he was theirs, their blood, their son, by the power of True Belief. He supposed it was nice to know they had chosen him.

Sarah took the letter from Gary to look it over, Jareth reading over her shoulder. "As Above, so Below," she murmured. "And the reverse is also true. This Hogwarts uses magic to send these letters to their students. Gary's name must have been on the list when he was still half mortal, and when we used the Words to change his name the list changed to reflect it. He needn't go, of course. His magic is already more advanced than anything they are capable of."

"Mother, I must go," Gary declared, thinking back to his lessons on the Rules and Laws. He met his father's eyes and saw that Jareth knew what he meant and was already making plans.

"What? No!" Sarah protested, a host of little female goblins melting out of the shadows to see what had distressed their mistress.

Jareth pulled his queen into his arms. "Do you not see it, Precious? For the first time in several centuries, one of the High Fae has been invited to the Above for more than granting a Wish or giving a Blessing. So long as Gareth attends this Hogwarts he can act with impunity, and Magic will allow it."

"But he's just a little boy." Sarah started to weep, and Gary found it as beautiful as it was terrible. No matter how he had begun life, he was not human now and did not have the sensibilities of one. A human boy might feel guilt for making his mother cry, but Gary just wanted to save her tears in a bottle so that he might drink them when he missed her. And he _would_ miss her, he thought, squaring his shoulders against the weight of destiny. For he would be going Above, and who knew when he would return to the Palace Beyond the Goblin City.

"I have to go, Mother. I'm the only one who can," Gary said, even as he conjured a vial so that he could bottle his mother's tears. She obliged him by leaning forward so that they rolled neatly off her chin.

Jareth's smile was wide and fierce and showed all his teeth. "The goblins of Gringotts will make you welcome, my son. Know that I can barely speak for the pride I feel in you. A pride I will continue to feel no matter how this venture ends. That you are willing to make the attempt is enough to grant your spurs." He released Sarah and conjured a sword into his hand. "Kneel."

His eyes wide with shock and his tongue thick in his mouth, Gareth knelt, the vial of his mother's tears still clenched in his fist. Unable to look up at his father for fear of being overcome and disgracing himself, he stared at the Goblin King's leather clad legs.

King Jareth tapped Gareth on his left shoulder with the point of the sword. "Revere me." The blade swished through the air to tap Gareth's right shoulder. "Serve me." Jareth raised the sword again and brought it down on the crown of Gareth's head, hard enough to make his ears ring. "Be my sword and I shall be your shield."

"I am yours, sire." Gary's mouth said the Words for him seemingly of its own volition. He was glad some part of him knew what it was doing. He could barely keep up with what was happening. It was as if he was outside himself, scrying the moment in a crystal.

The Goblin King laughed and Queen Sarah started crying again, from joy this time.

"Then arise, Sir Gareth, Goblin Prince and Knight of the Labyrinth!"

Gary got to his feet to a roar of cheers, and realized that at some point during this scene the throne room had flooded with the subjects of his father's kingdom. Sir Didymus could be seen blowing his nose on an obnoxious spotted hanky and proclaiming loudly that the new knight had been his squire.

The crowd burst into song, Jareth naturally taking up the part of the male lead, Sarah singing counterpoint as the magic inherent in their voices whipped the surrounding goblins into a frenzy. Gary danced, letting the music carry him away, his own sweet tenor rising during the chorus.

Music was some of the most potent of Faerie magic, and as Gareth danced with his family, friends, and subjects, the song changed from one of congratulation to a quick paced work march. For three days and three nights they would all dance and sing, and during those dances new armor and weapons were forged, a wardrobe was sewn and packed in a freshly enchanted trunk, and Sir Didymus himself presented Gareth with the spurs of goblin silver that he would wear on his boots forevermore to signify his status as a knight.

On the fourth morning they all collapsed in exhaustion, falling into sleep where they lay. Jareth was sprawled on his throne with Sarah in his lap, their feet draped over one of the arms, and Gary slept on his back on the thick fur rug that adorned the throne dais, his spurs gleaming in the torchlight.

The kingdom as a whole would slumber as long as they had danced, and the next song they sung would be one of leavetaking.

.

* * *

 **To head off any comments/complaints of this nature:** Yes, I know Sarah summoned Jareth in the first chapter, but she didn't know that she was Fae at the time. She was essentially a changeling, and that made the difference. If she had known she was Fae, she wouldn't have been able to summon Jareth to the Above because it would violate the Rules. That is why once Harry/Gary is Above he can't call any High Fae there. He can get mortals to do it, but not by directly asking them to do it for him. He must trick/convince them they want to do it for themselves.


	3. The Dark Prince

**A/N:** Thank you everyone who reviewed the last chapter! To answer a question I've gotten a lot of: No I've no idea where I'm going with this or how many chapters there will be. I'll keep updating it so long as I feel inspired to write more, I suppose.

* * *

 _The Dark Prince_

The goblins of Gringotts were pleased indeed to offer their halls to the son of the Goblin King. They gave him a suite of rooms next to those occupied by Director Ragnok and sent tutors to fill in the gaps in his knowledge of mortals. He learned the story of Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort that way, and spent his leisure time exploring the maze of tunnels that made up the bank. The dragons Above spoke with a nearly incomprehensible accent, but between Faerie magic and parseltongue Gary was able to chat with them.

He was riding one such dragon through the tunnels when he sensed a familiar power from a nearby vault. There was something beyond that door. Something that was _his_.

He opened the ancient vault easily, for there was no door within Gringotts that was closed to the Goblin Prince. There, among piles of wizarding coin and jewels, was a simple golden cup with a badger etched into the metal. And it pulsed with magic, with a heartbeat that had synchronized with Gary's own as soon as he drew near. It called to him, sang a lilting song of longing, danced with his aura... it was somehow a piece of him, and yet not... it was… _it was a part of someone's soul!_

"How foul. How fair," he said aloud, bypassing the curses that protected the vault's treasure to pick up the goblet. It was warm and heavy against his fingers, the magic of the soul fragment recognizing him and quivering. "How wonderfully horrific."

He could see it now, the still bleeding metaphysical wound where the piece of soul had been hewn from the rest, torn away with a hatchet of ritual sacrifice. "How foolish mortals be," Gary sighed. Magic came from the soul. By dividing the soul, the mortal's magic was also divided. He - for the magic had a distinctly male flavor to it - would have started to lose pieces of himself and never even realized it. It would stop his soul from returning to Magic to be reborn anew, but what a cursed life it would be. A life half lived.

And yet it was strangely compelling. Broken things often were, at least in Gary's eyes. There was a beauty to be found in the shards of what once was whole, and another kind of loveliness in piecing said shards together again.

Recalling the details of his own history that he had so recently learned, Gary concluded that this must be a piece of Voldemort's soul, like the one Jareth had removed from his forehead when he was but a babe. That was why the power felt like his, why it called to him so.

"Who am I to deny you?" he whispered to the cup. "You say you are mine, and so it shall be."

Then he raised the cup to his lips and tilted it back, as if he were drinking. Power poured into his mouth, flowing down his throat to flood his body. It was mortal power, and so a drop in the bucket compared to his Fae magic, but still dark and delicious like his favorite dessert. The soul shard tried to come with the power, but he pushed it back with his tongue and a prolonged hiss.

Without its magic to sustain it, the piece of soul faded away.

The cup just a cup once again, Gary put it back where he'd found it and shut the vault door.

 **-l-**

Draco Malfoy was nervous about getting on the Hogwarts Express, though he kept his composure as he'd been taught, looking like a miniature version of his father in his new robes with his silver hair slicked back. It was just that standing there on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters with his parents had made him realize that he wouldn't see them again for months. He'd never been away from them longer than a night before.

Firmly telling himself that he wasn't a child anymore and it shouldn't bother him at all, Draco was turning to say his goodbyes when his father's left arm jerked and he made a sound like he was choking.

Draco knew what was on his father's left arm. He'd seen it before, when he crawled into his parents' bed in the middle of the night. Lucius wore long sleeves at all other times, but there in the gloom of predawn Draco had examined his father's faded Dark Mark. The mark of the Dark Lord.

"Lucius?" his mother said, her face serene, though the grey eyes Draco had inherited from her were not.

"It's burning," Lucius told her, _sotto_ voice. "I don't know how that can be unless…"

Forcibly casual, Lucius looked around the platform.

That was when Draco saw him.

He was a boy, small enough to be a first year like Draco, but somehow he was _more_. His hair was blacker than black and fell to the middle of his back in a riot of waves. The top half was pulled up in a knot of braids and held out of his face by a circlet of pure silver, revealing pointed ears. His eyebrows too were pointed, and rose upwards in a slant. His eyes were a poisonous green the exact same shade as the silk vest he wore over a white shirt with lace cuffs. His breeches were dark grey and tucked into boots of black dragonhide that rose to the knee. His skin was somehow both pale and golden and sparkled when the light hit him just right, as if he were coated in glitter.

He saw them watching and smiled, and his teeth were pointed too.

But it was the magic that made Draco shiver. Magic hung around this boy like a cloak, heavy and thick. So much so that if Draco had never looked at the boy he would have assumed that the magic belonged to an adult wizard powerful enough to have such an aura. Someone like Merlin or Salazar Slytherin.

The boy started walking toward them, a trunk made up of dark oak panels floating along behind him. There was a silver device on the lid: a crowned owl in full aspect with a serpent wrapped around its left foot above a pair of crossed swords. Draco couldn't recall any family that used that crest, and he'd studied them all so hard. Just who was this boy?

The boy stopped in front of them. "It was the druids who first marked themselves for their patrons, tying their will and magic to the one they followed," the boy said in a melodious voice. It was how Draco always tried to sound, but never quite managed, his words coming out in a drawl instead. The boy looked pointedly at Lucius' left arm. "The art was thought to be lost with the Roman invasion."

Father clenched his hand into a tight fist, a tendon standing out in his neck. "What are you doing?" he asked the boy, his eyes darting around the crowd. Mother took a step forward and put her hand on Draco's shoulder, subtly putting herself between him and the boy.

"Don't worry. No one will notice us," the boy said. And there was a ripple in the cloud of magic around him that Draco could actually _feel_. How powerful must this boy be if his magic stirred the air like wind currents?

Draco broke into a cold sweat.

"But where are my manners?" The boy went on. "I am Prince Gareth, Heir Apparent and Knight of my father's realm. And you are?"

The prince held out his hand for Father to shake. His right hand. Father would have to shake with his left.

Draco felt like he'd been petrified. He wasn't even sure why he couldn't move, why his heart was thumping like a rabbit's. There was just something _inhuman_ about this boy. But Draco had never felt this way around goblins our house elves or any other creature.

"Lucius Malfoy. My wife Narcissa, and our son Draco," Father introduced them. Uncurling his fingers, he managed to shake Prince Gareth's hand.

The prince held Father's hand firmly in his own and raised his free hand up to grip the Dark Mark through Lucius' sleeve. Draco could feel more than see Mother going for her wand, but before she could drawn it, Prince Gareth opened his mouth and said, " _Sssasshaaayassseth hettthhhaassshhh. Sssssiiiihh haarassshaaasheeee. Attthhaaaasss._ "

Narcissa squeezed Draco's shoulder so hard he yelped. He barely noticed, too busy staring open mouthed at the prince.

Lucius looked down at the prince with wonder.

"Better?" the prince smiled, showing those pointy teeth again.

"The pain is gone… my lord?" While Lucius said the first part of that sentence as a statement, the last was clearly a question.

"Look into my eyes," the prince ordered.

Lucius did. The cloud of magic around Prince Gareth shifted and rolled again, and Draco realized that the prince was reading his father's mind, sorting through his thoughts. And Father was letting him? Or was he? If… if this boy could control the Dark Mark and speak the serpent tongue, then surely he was… was he the Dark Lord? And could Father even hope to hide anything from him if he wanted to?

After what seemed an eternity the prince blinked and his magic stilled. Lucius sighed.

"You have kept to the Old Ways as much as possible without risking Azkaban. This pleases me," the prince said. "But there are other matters in which your ignorance may be your undoing. I will send you instructions through your son once we reach Hogwarts. Look for his owl."

Lucius bowed his head. "Yes, milord."

The prince's eyes flashed, and Draco saw now that they were just as sharp as the teeth, ears, and eyebrows. "Lord Voldemort is gone," the prince said. "I am Prince Gareth. And you are my loyal druid."

Draco bit his tongue in his shock, the taste of copper filling his mouth. That clinched it. No one but the Dark Lord himself would dare to speak the name. He might be calling himself something else now, but this was he!

"Yes, mi- your highness," Father said.

The Dark Lord… Dark Prince? He smiled at Father, and then abruptly turned to Draco and Narcissa. He kissed Narcissa's hand and murmured a quiet "charmed, madam" and then those piercing green eyes were on Draco.

Draco thought this was what it must feel like to meet the gaze of a basilisk.

"Draco, was it?"

"Y-yes, your highness," Draco managed to answer.

The Dark Prince shook his hand, suddenly gregarious. "Nonsense, you must call me Gary. After all we've been pen friends since we were old enough to dictate letters."

"Pen friends?" Draco blinked.

"Of course," the Dark Prince went on. "That's why I've come from so very far away to attend Hogwarts. I wanted to go to school alongside my dear friend Draco Malfoy. Didn't I?"

"Oh. Right. Yes, of course… Gary," Draco said, catching on.

He chanced a look at his parents, and saw a combination of panic and pride in their eyes. The Dark Prince must have seen it too, because he said, "Fear not. I shall protect Draco from harm for as long as he stands at my side. You have my Word."

All at once, the Dark Prince's aura swirled, making Draco's ears pop, and he knew that magic would enforce the prince's vow.

The train whistle sounded and people started noticing them again, whatever spell the prince had done to hide them at an end.

"You must board the train with his highness, Draco," Father said, hustling them towards the scarlet steam engine.

"Be careful," Mother whispered in his ear, her eyes on the Dark Prince.

Draco swallowed hard. "I will be."

 **-l-**

The beginning of the train ride was rather normal, all things considered. Draco and … Gary (he must get used to saying it, it must seem second nature) got a compartment and stowed their trunks, and Crabbe and Goyle found them a few minutes later and sat on either side of the door. Gary examined the pair of them but soon dismissed them from his attention. Draco understood. Crabbe and Goyle were great fun for running about outside or playing quidditch, but too dim to converse with. Draco had tried, but given up completely around the time they turned seven.

The first interruption came when a boy with red hair and hand me down robes who just _had_ to be a Weasley burst into their compartment and asked if they'd seen Harry Potter because he was supposed to be on the train.

Draco froze. Harry Potter's arrival at Hogwarts had completely slipped his mind in the wake of suddenly being Gary's best friend. Warily, he cut his eyes toward his prince to see how Gary was handling mention of his vanquisher.

Gary smiled, utterly charming in spite of his inhumanity, and said, "I'm sorry, we haven't seen him. But tell me, what is that in your pocket?"

A frantic squeaking could be heard and the Weasley boy's pocket started jumping about. The boy put a freckled hand over it. "That's just my rat, Scabbers. He used to be my brother Percy's, but Percy got an owl so I got Scabbers. Don't know why he's squirming, he usually just sleeps so that you'd think he's dead."

Gary held out his hand. "May I?"

Weasley shrugged and pulled a disgusting grey rat out of his pocket. It was going absolutely mental, twisting its body and scrambling its legs, its bare tail lashing back and forth.

Gary let out a low hiss that could be taken as a sigh by anyone who didn't know he was a Parselmouth.

The rat froze and Weasley dropped it into Gary's hand.

Gary held it up to his face, looking into its eyes. Draco was rapidly becoming used to the sensation caused by his magic when the Dark Prince was reading someone's mind.

But why would he bother with a rat?

"I will buy this creature from you," Gary declared, looking up from the rat in his hands. Setting the ugly thing in his lap, he plucked a money pouch out of thin air. Draco had to clench his teeth to keep from gaping at such a casual display of wandless magic, but this was the Dark Prince, so he supposed it was to be expected. Crabbe, Goyle, and Weasley didn't seem to notice or care about the feat of magic. Probably assumed the enchantment was on the bag, if they thought about it at all.

"What?" Weasley said, the gormless idiot.

"How much?" Gary asked, opening the pouch and pulling out three galleons.

"Uh…"

Gary pulled out three more galleons and raised an eyebrow. Weasley looked down at the rat and then back at the money. It was an obscene amount to pay for a rat, and a shabby one at that.

Weasley proved he wasn't as dumb as he looked by taking the money.

"Thanks!" the ginger idiot chirped at them, then turned to resume his search for Harry Potter. Gary stroked the rat in his lap.

Before Weasley could get all the way through the door, another ginger appeared, this one taller and sporting a prefect's badge. "Ron, have you seen Fred and-"

The older Weasley glanced up at the bench where Draco and Gary were sitting and went so pale even his lips seemed bloodless. Draco thought he might faint.

"No," he croaked. "It was a dream."

"Hello, Percival," Gary said genially. "Long time no see. How _are_ Fred and George?"

The Weasley - Percival - got even paler. "Are you here for them?"

"No, no. Don't worry," Gary. "I've been invited to attend Hogwarts."

"You know him, Percy?" the younger Weasley asked.

"Yes, Ron," Percy said. "This is His Royal Highness, Prince Gareth."

"Bloody hell! How do you know a prince?!"

Percy floundered, flushing red where he had once been ghostly pale.

"We met through my father," Gary said. "Speaking of which…" Gary held up the rat. "I need to send this to him. It's just too bad I don't have a means of doing so immediately." Then he pointedly set the rat down on the seat and looked away from it.

Percy's eyes flicked between the rat and the prince who was now acting as if it wasn't there. "Why have you got Scabbers?"

"He bought him off me! Paid me loads more than he's worth too!" Ron announced. Draco wondered if he'd been dropped on his head at birth.

"Ron go find Fred and George," Percy ordered sharply.

Ron shrugged and clomped out of the compartment.

"This is a trick, isn't it?" Percy said, his hands in his hair. He looked like he would very much like to pace, but was afraid to move or even take his eyes off of Gary.

Gary gave a Gallic shrug. "Nothing is ever as it seems."

Percy rocked backwards and forwards on his heels. "Will anything happen to me and my family if I do it?"

"Do what?" Gary asked, examining his nails.

Percy rocked again. "Will anything happen to me or my family if I don't?"

"One never knows what life may hold."

Percy bit his lips. "Will I have to run again?"

"There is always a choice."

Percy glanced at him and Draco straightened in his seat, trying to look like he knew what was going on. Crabbe and Goyle messed about with their exploding snap cards, oblivious as usual.

Percy tore at his hair, took a deep breath, and let it out with a whoosh. "Alright. I'll do it. And you'll never tell anyone about the other time."

Gary smiled. "Not a Word."

Gary passed the rat to Percy and Percy took it with him from the compartment. A few minutes later the lights flickered and a sudden storm came upon them. Little creatures skittered around the compartment in the corners of Draco's vision, only to disappear when he tried to look at them full on.

Gary merely hummed.

Draco decided not to ask. He was safe so long as he was at Gary's side. Besides, that older Weasley had looked an inch away from pissing himself when he saw Gary, and Draco didn't want to risk drawing the ire of anyone who could inspire such a look. If the Dark Prince wanted him to know, he would tell him.

But the silence was oppressive, and Draco had to break it somehow. He gave Crabbe and Goyle some money and sent them to find the snack trolley, which neatly restored his equilibrium. It was just a train ride. With a super powerful immortal wizard somehow reborn in the body of an inhumanely beautiful (and terrifying) boy.

"Are you going to mark me?" Draco blurted. He'd been wondering since the train platform, but this was the first time they'd been alone for more than a few minutes. The instant the question left his lips he cringed, waiting for a reprimand. His father was always scolding him for his impulsiveness, said it was absolutely Gryffindor behavior.

But Gary just smiled. He was very easy going, right up until he wasn't. "Not unless you want me to. And you must really want it. I will know if you don't." He patted Draco's arm. "Don't ask me again until you mean it."

At Gary's touch, Draco felt a rush of magic caress his skin. He shivered, and didn't know if it was fear or joy. Was that intentional? Or was the Dark Prince just that powerful? So powerful that he couldn't help how he affected those around him.

Draco understood now, the look his father got on his face when he spoke of the Dark Lord. How this man - boy, now - had commanded such great loyalty.

"Does it hurt?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Gary said. "The pain is part of the druidic ritual. It is meant to prove your dedication."

"Oh," Draco said. He rubbed his left arm.

"Think about it. You have years to decide. You may even declare for another, if you really want to. I won't stop you. Your father, however, will always be mine."

Draco nodded.

They were interrupted again by the compartment door sliding open. A bushy haired girl with buck teeth stood there next to the Longbottom heir. Draco had seen him in passing sometimes, though they'd never spoken.

The girl was babbling something about looking for a toad and being a muggleborn. Draco's lips automatically curled into a sneer, but Gary's magic snapped around him excitedly and brought Draco up short. Was the Dark Prince going to murder this mudblood for stepping into the compartment? Why else would he be so excited?

Draco wasn't sure he wanted to see a murder.

But Gary just smiled and stood to kiss her hand, introducing himself and Draco. Draco followed Gary's lead and kissed the mudblood's hand too. He was confused, but he wasn't stupid. Maybe she wasn't really a mudblood and Gary sensed it somehow? Or he was making it seem like he liked her so no one would be suspicious when he murdered her later?

Her hand didn't actually feel different than a normal witch's. She didn't smell either, though her hair and teeth were horrible and she talked very quickly in a bossy fashion. Draco had expected a mudblood's heritage to be more obvious somehow, but Gary was more inhuman than she was.

That thought made him flinch. He hoped Gary could only hear things when he was looking directly into someone's eyes.

"What is this toad's name?" Gary was asking. His wand appeared in his hand with a flick of his wrist. It was long and pointed and had a carved serpent twining around it, with the serpent's head serving as the handle. Draco was certain that Gary didn't need the wand and was holding it only to disguise his wandless magic.

"Oh, that doesn't look like an Ollivander wand." The mudblood went off on another tangent about the most common lengths, woods, and carvings found on British wands.

"That is because it is not," Gary told her. "I cut the branch of thorn myself, and my father helped me sing it into shape."

"What kind of core?" the mudblood asked, looking fascinated, as she should be. Draco was fascinated and he was her better by leagues.

"Seven hairs from my father's head and a vial of my mother's tears," Gary answered offhandedly. In the silence that followed, he summoned Longbottom's toad.

"I've got my father's old wand," Longbottom offered. Draco latched onto the new subject, making a mental note that the Dark Prince was sometimes creepy entirely by accident. He didn't seem to recognize anything at all off about what his wand was made of. Draco would consult Father over whether or not he should say anything. He didn't want to offend Gary, but he also didn't want to anger Gary by failing to point out when he was being… weird.

At least the oddity of Gary's wand had distracted the mudblood from commenting on his silent summoning charm. They weren't even at Hogwarts yet, and Draco was ready to gag her. She just wouldn't stop!

But Gary nodded to her with his ever present smile and offered her and Longbottom seats with his smooth charm, and Draco resigned himself to consorting with the girl. At least she was clearly intelligent, something else he hadn't expected from someone with her pedigree. He'd always thought muggles must be even dumber than Crabbe and Goyle and marveled that they hadn't all died of trying to eat rocks or some such thing. Either Granger wasn't a mudblood, or he'd been misinformed somewhere along the way. Maybe the ones with magic were different, smarter than the regular muggles?

 **-l-**

Longbottom and Granger shared their boat across the Black Lake, and Gary impressed everyone by singing some incredible song in a strange language that called the merpeople to the surface of the lake to sing with him. There was magic in the notes somehow, and Draco goggled at it as all the hair on his arms stood on end. Siren magic was supposed to be a lost art. But then he remembered who Gary was and it all made sense. Hadn't his father told him the stories of how the Dark Lord delved deeper into Magic than anyone else before or since?

So many lost things, found again. If… if he asked, and he meant it, maybe Gary would teach him.

Maybe.

Draco had to gather his courage to ask first.

They entered the castle, the first years all staring at the Dark Prince. Already they revolved around him, his power and charisma drawing them like moths to flame. Draco allowed himself to be smug that _he_ was the one standing at Gary's right hand. He decided then and there that he would take the Dark Mark. He would wait a little while, until he thought he'd be able to handle the pain, but he wouldn't give up his place in the Dark Prince's new Inner Circle for anything.

And of course, it was obvious now. That was why Gary was at Hogwarts. To recruit new followers so they could bring back the Old Ways. And it was why he wanted Draco to pretend he'd known him for years, to throw Dumbledore off the scent. It had to be.

Draco's chest puffed up at the importance of his task.

The mudblood started prattling about the enchanted ceiling once they entered the Great Hall. Draco nodded in the appropriate places, already used to only half listening to her.

Of his acquaintances, Crabbe was sorted first. He went into Slytherin, though for the life of him Draco couldn't say how. There wasn't a cunning bone in his body, and his greatest ambition was to get seconds at every meal. Granger was next, and she went to Ravenclaw. Hadn't she been rattling on about Gryffindor on the train? Well, maybe she'd changed her mind after Draco and Gary both said they expected Slytherin.

Goyle joined the snakes too, Merlin knew how, and then Longbottom managed to make both a Gryffindor and an idiot of himself at the same time by running off with the hat. Then it was Draco's turn. He stalked up to the hat and was proud when it barely had to touch his head to put him in the House of Greatness.

Theo Nott and Pansy Parkinson, both of whom Draco knew from various parties and dinners, were after that and both went to Slytherin.

Then, "His Royal Highness, Prince Gareth."

Hmm, they must have put him in with the 'P's for 'prince' since he didn't have a last name. Whispers spread throughout the hall as the older students realized they had royalty among them and the first years spread the story of the song on the Black Lake. They hadn't even finished the sorting, and there were already rumors that Gary was descended from King Arthur and Morgan Le Fey through their son, Mordred. Which would be amazing, but was nonsense because Gary wasn't the prince of Britain. At least… Draco didn't think so.

For some reason, it had never occurred to him to ask what kingdom Gary's father ruled, and the thought was a slippery one. Even now, he struggled to keep it in the front of his mind.

"Oh!" the Sorting Hat said aloud. "Ah! Hmmmm. Right. Better be Slytherin!"

Draco applauded along with his housemates and made room for Gary to sit beside him.

The rest of the sorting was a parade of people Draco didn't know or care about until Weasley went to Gryffindor and Blaise Zabini joined them in Slytherin.

Then Dumbledore spouted some utter nonsense and a feast appeared before them.

"Are you really a prince?" Pansy simpered at Gary as they dished up potatoes and roasted chicken from the platters in front of them.

"My father is a king, and my mother a queen," Gary answered. "Does that make me a prince?"

Pansy giggled in a put on, horrid way, and Draco suddenly missed the mudblood.

"They didn't call out Harry Potter's name," a big girl sitting down the table a ways said. Bulstrode, Draco thought her name was. "Isn't he supposed to be in our year?"

"Guess he's too good to go to school with the likes of us," said a rat faced boy Draco didn't know.

He realized he'd forgotten about Potter again. But really, who cared about Potter when he was sitting next to the Dark Prince?

"Draco, who is that man with the purple turban on his head?" Gary asked.

Draco looked at the staff table and did a mental rundown of the information his parents had given him on all the professors. "That's Professor Quirrell. He teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts," he reported.

"Interesting," Gary said.

Draco looked at Quirrell and couldn't find anything interesting about him beyond how pathetic he was. No, more interesting to Draco was that Professor Snape was sitting next to Quirrell and he had his arms folded against his chest, the right one holding the left, his dark eyes darting around the room from beneath the fringe of his black hair. His plate was entirely clear, as he hadn't bothered to serve himself any food.

"Your highness," Draco said under his breath to get Gary's attention.

Gary looked at him. Draco nodded toward Snape.

Gary looked up and met Snape's eyes.

Snape turned green.

"Well well," Gary said, then hissed a few words under his breath, his magic reaching out toward Snape. The Slytherins near enough (and smart enough, in the case of Crabbe and Goyle, who just continued to plow through their food) fell silent and looked at the titan in their midst.

A few minutes later Snape started eating and conversation picked back up, though all who had felt the surge of power watched Gary out of the corners of their eyes, Snape included.


	4. The Claiming of Druids

**A/N:** Special thanks to those of you who positively reviewed the last chapter, and are still here reading. :D

* * *

 _The Claiming of Druids_

When Gary entered the Slytherin common room for the first time, all of the various snakes carved, painted, and embroidered everywhere turned to look at him, hissing their greetings. Gary hissed back, as was polite, only vaguely noticing how the mortals in the room fell silent and stared at him.

No, he was paying far more attention to the portrait of the wizard that hung over the fireplace. With black hair and eyes glowing gold, it was easy to recognize the Half-Fae, even if he was wearing an illusion of age. "Cousin," Gary greeted the portrait of Merlin, whose father was the Demon King.

The portrait of Merlin bowed to him, a flicker across its face letting him know that the real Merlin - who was not dead, but had merely retired to his father's kingdom Underground - had connected his awareness to it. That would be useful, having a way to readily communicate with the Underground without drawing suspicion. And Merlin would be only too happy to help, not just because what Gary did was for the good of all Fae, or because they were friends, but because as Jareth's legitimate son Gary outranked Merlin, who was the Demon King's bastard, got on a mortal woman during a solstice night.

"Cousin," Merlin returned Gary's greeting. "It's been too long."

"He's talking!" One of the Slytherins exclaimed in a voice gone high with shock. "He never talks!"

"I'm stuck on the part where he called the Parselmouth firstie 'cousin,' myself."

Merlin gave Gary a look that said quite clearly, _You see why I don't talk to them_.

Gary tossed his head back and laughed. Merlin laughed with him, though he was laughing at the pale faces and wide eyes of the other Slytherins. Some of them were gazing upon Gareth as if he were a god, and others as if he were a monster that might eat them at any moment, which was only right and proper.

"Ah, Merlin, you always make me laugh," Gary managed through his chuckles. He waved Draco forward. "May I present my good friend, Draco Malfoy? I have given my Word to protect him for so long as he is at my side. If you would look after him while he's in the castle, it would be much appreciated."

Draco seemed torn between smug superiority and disbelief. Still, he managed a proper bow to Merlin.

" _Training your own High Priest?_ " Merlin asked in the Dragon Tongue. Merlin was a Beastspeaker, and as Gary was a Parselmouth they had several reptilian dialects in common. They could have, of course, spoken the magical language of the High Fae, but the sound of it was not for mortal ears. Even lesser Fae would be driven mad if they heard too much of it, their minds overwhelmed to the point of breaking.

" _He has potential_ ," Gary answered, placing a hand on Draco's shoulder. " _Follows direction, doesn't protest when impossible things happen, wants to please me. All I need to do is be kind to him, and he will worship me. The Underground will grow._ " Then he smiled. " _But that's not the best part. Oh no! Dear cousin, I seem to have somehow inherited a handful of druids from a mortal wizard who once tried to kill me and gave me his power instead. Enough power that the druidic marks attached to him now burn in my presence. It takes only a few Words to claim them as my own._ "

Merlin's eyebrows shot into his hairline. " _Truly? That is a stroke of luck! You could have them performing the rituals by Samhain at this rate_."

" _I plan on it. Speaking of which_ …" Gary turned to Draco, switching to English. "Draco, would you mind choosing a room for the two of us to share? It seems Professor Snape wants to speak with me."

As one, the entirety of Slytherin House turned to see the professor in question step out of an alcove. Gary had felt his presence through the Dark Mark as soon as he entered the room.

"Yes, your highness," Draco said, looking out at all those who watched them. Gary had to smile at words well chosen. They were both a confirmation of Gary's authority and a firm declaration of where Draco stood.

As if Draco's departure was a signal, the rest of the Slytherins flooded the dorm halls, some eager to be away from their Head of House and the creepy first year who was a clear Dark Lord in the making, and others dragging their feet reluctantly, but not willing to test Gary's patience.

 **-l-**

Severus was sweating through his layers of wool. He'd known that Dumbledore's plan to use the Philosopher's Stone as bait was utterly idiotic, and suspected that Quirrell was working with the Dark Lord after coming back from vacation acting so queerly, but never did he think the Dark Lord would be so bold as to enter the castle himself.

And yet he had. He was standing right in front of Severus in the Slytherin common room. He might be wearing the guise of a child, but Severus had felt the Dark Mark burn once the boy was close enough, had watched from just inside the Slytherin entrance as the child spoke to snakes and was bowed to by the portrait of Merlin. That the young Malfoy followed his orders was a step further than necessary for Severus to be absolutely certain.

And now here he was, face to face with the Dark Lord, and not remotely ready. His usual occlumency shields were up, as they always were, but he'd made a habit of meditating and strengthening them before seeing the Dark Lord during the war, to be sure that nothing would leak through. He could only hope that the Dark Lord wouldn't scan him too deeply.

The Dark Mark pulsed with a warmth that was more pleasure than pain, and Severus gave a full body jerk. Pain he could handle. He was used to it. But the Dark Lord using the mark to make him feel _good_? That was new. Different.

Frightening.

" _Hettthassshiiiii_ ," the Dark Lord hissed, the language of snakes even more disturbing when it came from such an inhumanly beautiful child.

Before Severus' eyes the stone snakes on the walls crawled over the common room entrance, locking it in place, and the doors that led to the dormitory halls closed, the snake shaped door handles weaving their tails together to bar the way. Snakes appeared in the portraits, chasing away any who might carry tales the Dark Lord didn't want told.

Severus knelt before the child, bowing his head. "My lord."

Small hands reached for his arm, pushing his sleeve back and stroking the Dark Mark, which stood out stark and black against his skin, clearer than it had been in a decade. Severus shuddered, gooseflesh flowing outward from every point the Dark Lord's fingers touched.

"Look into my eyes," the boy whispered, though it sounded so loud to Severus it was a wonder to him that Dumbledore couldn't hear it in his tower.

Taking a split second to brace himself, Severus raised his head to meet the Dark Lord's gaze, and was startled at the shade of green. He hadn't noticed before, not through the pain of the burning mark and the sharp relief when it stopped burning at a touch of Prince Gareth's magic; through the shock the Dark Lord's sudden return had engendered in him, but now he saw.

The Dark Lord had Lily's eyes.

And that could only mean…

"You are correct, Severus," the Dark Lord said, so close now that Severus could feel the boy's breath as he spoke. "I was once the child of Lily and James Potter. But I am Harry Potter no longer. Not since that night."

Severus strengthened his occlumency shields, only to have them gently swept away. The Dark Lord had gotten more skilled in his exile, able to lay Severus completely bare at last, and do it without unhinging his mind. Without even giving him a headache.

With all his thoughts of vengeance, his love for Lily, his vow to protect Lily's boy, his spying for Dumbledore revealed, Severus doubted he would live to see the sunrise.

But the Dark Lord surprised him. "I am not Lord Voldemort either," he said, though the proprietary way he was fingering the Dark Mark said otherwise. "He is gone. I am Prince Gareth, Son of King Jareth. And you," the Dark Lord's little hand left Severus' arm to cup his cheek, "you are mine, aren't you? Twice bound to me, once through the mark on your arm, and once through your vow to Lily's boy."

Though he didn't move, Severus recoiled at the thought of that. He would not serve Lily's murderer. The Dark Lord was _not_ Lily's boy!

And yet the twinge in his magic when he considered trying to kill the child, one final act before the Dark Lord disposed of him, told him that his vow very much _did_ consider the boy to be Lily's.

"Ssshhh," the Dark Lord shushed him in response to his thoughts, their eyes still locked together, Severus' mind an open book. The Dark Lord soothing him while wearing the body of his dead friend's child was more disturbing than any torture could ever be. "What is said is said. What is done is done. You are my druid. Worship me, fear me, be my priest and I shall be your god."

Magic coiled around them, so thick Severus could feel it against his skin, looking for a way inside him. It found the entrance it sought in the Dark Mark, spiraling down into the tattooed snake's mouth, entering the visible spectrum as a plume of purple smoke and silver glitter. Something shifted in Severus' own magical core, and he thought he might vomit. He wanted to fight, wanted to plead, wanted to end himself before he could be forced into this final betrayal, could be reborn entirely the Dark Lord's creature, but he could not. He'd already invited the Dark Lord in, taken his mark, and couldn't take it back now. That wasn't how Dark Magic worked.

Still, he tried. But the Dark Lord's eyes glowed an eerie green, like St. Elmo's fire, and a crack of thunder roared through the night. The room got darker and Severus could hear the slithering of snakes and the patter of feet. Creatures darted around them, invisible creatures that laughed and called out to their prince.

The Dark Mark burned and writhed on Severus's arm, and his heart clenched with the vow he had sworn to protect Lily's boy. His resistance crumbled, and the Dark Lord's magic swept through him, remaking him, healing something within him that he'd not thought broken to begin with.

Severus fell backwards and didn't mind hitting his head on the stone of the dungeon floor if it meant he wouldn't have to look in those inhuman eyes anymore.

"She wasn't human either, you know," the Dark Lord said. "Lily. That is how she was able to defeat Voldemort."

Severus had a hundred and one questions and twice as many insults on the tip of his tongue, but he was too busy marveling at the fact that he was still alive and felt physically and mentally and maybe even emotionally more stable than he ever had in his life. What had his god done to him?

"What does everyone think happened to Harry Potter?" his god asked.

"When Hogwarts didn't address a letter to him, Dumbledore checked the list and found he was no longer on it. But it wasn't that he was dead - the list crosses the name out in cases like that. Instead it was as if he'd never existed at all. And when Dumbledore went to wherever he'd stashed the boy, none of the muggles remembered him ever being there. Dumbledore and those in his confidence believe the boy kidnapped and are searching for him. The general public has been told that he's being trained by private tutors."

"I see… And what of me? Did you tell Dumbledore your suspicions about me?"

"No. I haven't been alone with him yet, and I didn't want to prejudice him against a Slytherin child without being absolutely certain."

"Very good." The Dark God walked across the room, the silver spurs on his boots jingling with his steps. They sounded like sleigh bells. The Dark God sat in one of the wingback chairs by the fire, the snake shaped armrests licking his fingers. "Take a moment to regain your bearings, then leave me. And stay away from Quirrell. I will deal with him in my own time."

Severus stretched his legs and arms out where he lay on the floor, flexing his muscles one group at a time as he usually did after a bout of the Cruciatus Curse. Everything was in working order. Better even. All of his little aches and pains, accumulated over thirty years of living and a decade of war were gone. His magic felt… clean, was the only word for it. Pure. It leapt through him, reaching for his wand as if it couldn't wait to be used. His Dark Mark, once a brand and a leash, was now a conduit to his god. Severus could feel the strength that flowed from it, strength granted to him by Prince Gareth.

He got to his feet and bowed before heading towards the door, the stone snake slithering back along the wall to let him pass.

"Oh, and Severus?" his god's voice stopped him.

He hesitated, unsure what honorific one used with a god. "My liege?"

"You will be able to speak of this to Lucius. But mention what happened here to anyone else, and my mark will stop you."

"I understand."

"Good."


	5. The Pets of a Prince

**Several Long Notes, Feel Free to Skip if No1Curr:**

 **Pairing Tags:** I've gotten a lot of comments/opinions/messages since I tagged the fic as Harry/Draco. Let me say now that I don't foresee Harry having a very deep relationship with Draco as he'll likely not be Above more than a couple of years, and High Fae or not, he's 11. It's going to be more like Draco having a crush on him and Harry noticing and mimicking the behavior he's observed between Jareth and Sarah. He might pat Draco's cheek and call him 'precious thing' but that will probably be the extent of it. **An argument can be made that the fic is really gen** , since I don't intend to really go into Harry having a relationship, but I've been burned in the past for calling something gen but having characters flirt with each other, as certain readers felt I was 'tricking' them into reading pairings they dislike. So my own personal philosophy is now to tag pairings no matter how mild, just to avoid complaints like that. That said, if enough people comment and tell me the opposite, that having the pairing tag there with such a mild connotation is even more misleading, I'll change it. Basically I'm just trying to do whatever stays off the most torches and pitchforks, ya feel me.

Let me also reiterate that I initially meant for this fic to be a oneshot, that I am now continuing. Since I don't have a firm story-line or plan in mind, the pairing tag may change again as the story is evolving as I write it. For example, my original intention when I first started continuing this was Harry/Hermione, but as soon as they interacted Gary/Harry informed me he wasn't into her. It's tagged Harry/Draco right now, but might be Harry/Luna in the future if I even get to the point of introducing Luna. It will not be Harry/any of the older generation characters, as like I said before he won't be Above long enough for him to get old enough that it's not creepy.

 **Chapter Length/Time Between Updates:** I got so many obnoxious messages regarding this fic that I completely lost interest in continuing it, as it just wasn't fun anymore. I feel like it's been long enough now that I'm not pissed off anymore and mildly interested again, but as this chapter was like pulling teeth it's not very long. I also have no idea when the next one may be posted, though I have an outline for the next three. So if you're the type that prefers long chapters and a firm update schedule, feel free to give this story a miss.

 **TL;DR:** I do what I want. Get wrekt. 3

* * *

 _The Pets of a Prince_

The first days spent in Hogwarts passed Gary by quickly. So busy was he cataloging the hidden places and secret songs of the castle and grounds that he barely spared enough attention to provide Draco with scrolls that explained the true history and origins of magic and the so called 'muggleborn' along with a few handwritten pamphlets on the proper magical Holy Days and rituals. Draco promptly turned into a gibbering fountain of questions, which Gary answered without even noticing, so second nature was the information to him. He was much more interested in the room on the seventh floor that was only there when he commanded it, the cerberus in the third floor corridor, and the basilisk in the basement.

" _Why are you not dead?_ " the ponderous serpent hissed when Gary awoke it from its slumber deep within the Chamber of Secrets. " _My gaze isss meant to kill_."

" _I am not mortal_ ," Gary replied in the Serpent's Tongue. " _I can be destroyed, but I cannot die._ "

" _Oh,_ " the basilisk said. " _I don't sssee the difference but I suppose there iss one, ssssince you are sssstill breathing…. I'm hungry._ "

" _I will see to it that you are fed well, should you agree to bear me upon your back when I wish to traverse my home._ "

" _Hmmm…. Will there be fresh spider meat?_ "

" _I will find a way._ "

" _Very well, little ssspeaker._ "

Gary grinned. He would have his own mount at last!

 **-l-**

"If there were creatures considered dangerous on the castle grounds, would you want them gone?" Gary asked Draco in the middle of history class one day, not even bothering to keep his voice down. Professor Binns just kept droning on, never mind that it was rare for anything he said to be both important and correct.

"Like what?" Draco asked.

"Shh!" said Hermione, her hair frizzing in irritation. Gary was still trying to determine just what sort of changeling she may be. Her hair and the way it responded to her moods made him think she may be a gorgon, but when he tested her she showed no understanding of Parseltongue. But then he wasn't certain if the glamour that hid her from herself would prevent that….

"A cerberus, to name one example."

"Hogwarts is the safest place in Wizarding Britain!" Hermione whispered harshly. "All the books say so. There won't be anything like that on the grounds. The teachers wouldn't allow it."

Gary smiled at her, amused at her conviction. Stubbornness was a known quality of many fae, so it didn't really help him to narrow down what kingdom she was from. Her overlarge front teeth might point toward her being a selkie, and she certainly had the proper coloring. "But if there were such beasts here, would you wish someone to remove them?"

"Of course I would!" she sniffed, sticking her nose in the air, before cutting her eyes toward Professor Binns and shrinking into herself, remembering she should be taking notes.

"And how would you Word it?"

"What?" Hermione glanced at him sharply, then immediately turned back to her parchment. "Stop distracting me, Gary."

"Fine, fine, I'll leave you be… as soon as you tell me how you would Word your wish."

Hermione huffed, muttering about idiotic princes and their nonsensical whims and obsession with faerie myths under her breath. "Honestly. If it's the only way you'll let me take notes in peace, then 'I wish for all dangerous beasts to be removed from Hogwarts Castle and Grounds, unless present for legitimate educational purposes.'"

Gary merely smirked and whispered, "Done."

 **-l-**

"Jareth?"

"Yes, precious?"

"There is a seventy foot basilisk chasing a horde of giant spiders through the labyrinth, a pair of mountain trolls happily wallowing in the Bog of Eternal Stench, some confused grindylows in Hoggle's favorite fountain, and a three headed dog sleeping across the threshold of our son's room."

"Bless that boy. He gives such lovely presents."


End file.
